


Winter Rest

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bilbo is eventually forgiven, Disabled Character, Fluff, I don't know what else to add, M/M, Mentions of hunting, Pugs, a lot of manure, entomophagy, how to feed a mountain in winter when a dragon destroyed everything, manure, meaning people eat insects and treat it as a normal fact of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle against the armies of Dol Guldur is over, another one starts against winter and hunger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is what happen when you let think about things like "how the hell am I supposed to believe that the dwarves entire food supply is imported, this makes no sense". I mentioned it on tumblr and tons of lovely people helped me figure out how the dwarves could feed themselves, and then I wrote a fic.  
> Hope you'll enjoy it!:D

The fight against the forces of Dol Guldur had been won, but another battle was about to start, and one that might prove more dangerous. Erebor was in ruins, Esgaroth had burned to the ground, and winter was coming. They needed food, and Thorin did not know where to find it.

Dain was helping for now. As soon as the battle had been over, he had sent messages to the Iron Hills asking for grain to be sent, and anything that could be spared and would not be spoiled during the travel, but it would not be enough. They would have to share with the humans to show good will (Balin's suggestion, and Thorin did not like it, but it was still a good political gesture). Gandalf had given his word that Bard had promised that in exchange, the Men would also share what the elves were supposed to give them, but Thorin knew better than to expect anything from Thranduil, and had decided to not take that in consideration. Which meant a strict rationing had to be established until spring, and that solutions had to be found to bring complements to Dain's gifts.

It would have been far easier if he hadn't been stuck in bed due to wounds severe enough that he could not brush them off as something that would just heal with time. Losing a leg did not just heal with time, as Balin liked to remind him.

“I should at least be sitting somewhere more accessible,” Thorin claimed, when at last Oin allowed him to sit at all. “The throne room...”

“Is a mess, and a dangerous place to have someone who cannot walk nor fight,” Balin cut him. “I don't know what people where thinking about, all these empty spaces... I'd relocate it if I were you, there's quite a few dwarves who don't feel great in there. Poor Ori just refuses to go in.”

“How is his eye?”

“Better. Oin thinks he won't lose it after all, but it'll never be as good as it was... Not that he lets it stop him. We barely see him these days, he's constantly exploring with Kili and Nori, and they only come back to the cleared parts to tell their tales to Fili.”

Thorin nodded. He was glad that the young ones had found something to do in spite of all their problems, and that Nori was watching over them. He knew he should have ordered that the three of them used their time to something more useful, but the idea of children playing in Erebor pleased him... even if they were not children anymore, not really. No one could see war and still be a child.

“They have found the dragon's... private places,” Balin chuckled. “Just last night. We had to send them bathing in the river, the stench was dreadful... and it's still not fully gone. A few of Dain's soldiers said it might never go, and Kili started crying.”

Thorin chuckled too, and winced in pain when some of his ribs protested against the agitation.

“I imagine I would cry too if I were to smell of dragon's shit for the rest of my life.”

“Hmhm. But you know, once he stopped gagging so much, Ori suggested that we could try to use that to make manure, and that's worth a try. The old mushrooms farms might still be in a decent state, if we buy spawns from Dain, we could have a culture started in a matter of weeks.”

“Do we have anyone who knows about farming?”

“Among Dain's people maybe, we will have to see.”

Thorin nodded, and asked that Balin find someone to be in charge of the farming attempts, before switching to other subjects for a little while. Sooner than he would have liked, the king found himself too tired to go on. His old friend had the decency of not saying out loud that it was proof Thorin wasn't fit to leave his room yet, but they both knew it nonetheless.

* * *

 

It was another two weeks before Thorin obtained permission from Oin to be carried in what everyone soon called the new throne room. Instead of a throne, the king sat in a wooden chair that had miraculously survived the years and that had been made more comfortable with old pillows. The entire thing wasn't much too look at, and it smelled of dust, but it was comfortable enough that Thorin could sit there for hours and be easily informed of everything that was going on in the mountain.

The main problems at present were the treatment of the wounded, and food, and both were taken care of efficiently. The first by Oin, who had gathered Dain's healer, and somehow stolen two elves from Thranduil. It was more of a surprise to learn that little Ori had taken over the attempts to grow mushrooms.

“He was the only volunteer to experiment with the dragon's waste and some spawns we found,” Balin explained, “and he worked a few years for a farmer before I stole him and gave him more interesting things to deal with. He knows what he's doing, and it seems to be working well enough, except for the... _smell_. He mostly stays in the farms lately.”

“Have him come here. I would appreciate regular reports on his work. That boy might be feeding us all before the end of winter, I want to know how he is doing.”

“Very well. But when he's there, do remember that you _asked_ for it.”

* * *

 

The stink of dragon waste was even worse than what Balin had described, and Thorin feared at first he might get sick from it. But if Ori, who spent his days surrounded by it, could bear it without complaint, then Thorin felt it was the least he could do to ignore the stench as much as he could. Luckily there was a window in the room and before anything else, Ori made sure that it was open to create a draught, then positioned himself so that the smell would not go toward Thorin.

“I am glad you found some time to come here, master Ori,” the kind said. “Balin tells me that you have been busy working in mushroom farms?”

“Someone has to,” the boy replied defensively, readjusting his eye-patch. “I think I can have the first harvest in three weeks, and I started growing them last week. Dragons are good for that at least, it is all going faster than usual.”

That meant cutting the growing time nearly in half. It also meant they might not need Dain's help as much as they had feared, and that would be a relief because the Iron Hills had little resources to spare.

“Do you think there is any risk though, growing them with such... material?”

Ori shrugged. “With all due respect, my king, I've been knee high in Smaug's shit all week, and I'm not dead yet, even if I smell like it. I think the worst we have to fear is the taste maybe, and I'm trying to experiment with putting various quantities of dragon shit in the manure to see how it all affects the growth. I will report to you as soon as I start having results.”

“Who is working with you in the farms?”

“No one,” Ori said, looking sincerely surprised and confused by the question. “Who would be mad enough for it? There are farmers among Dain's dwarves, but they do not want to deal with the dragon's waste, nor with mushroom that have been left to their own business for a century. They are waiting until their king can send them proper material, they said. But there's not much else I can do, so I do this at least.”

It was rather doubtful that Balin could not have found another use for the boy, had Ori asked for it. He had been helpful enough before, scouting around with Kili and Nori, going in parts of the mountain where few others dared to go. Then again, his bad eye must have made it difficult, and it wasn't unlikely the boy might have wanted a quieter occupation, one that did not require a sense of depth... but still, there were many things a talented scribe might have done in the mountain. If Ori worked in the farms, he had to want it, or at least to feel it was truly needed, no matter what others said.

“If you need help, I can order that it be given to you,” Thorin offered.

“I manage well enough on my own for now, my king. Although I think...”

The boy hesitated and played nervously with the hem of his tunic, looking down at his feet.

“What do you think, master Ori?”

“Nothing. It's... you wouldn't like it if I told you. You will get angry.”

“Tell me, and I will try to keep calm.”

Ori took and deep breathe, and looked up.

“Bilbo should be called back,” he said, his voice higher than usual, “because hobbits know more about gathering food than we do, and he could help. He's stuck in this part of the world until the end of winter anyway, and he feels guilty enough that he'd be delighted to help until spring, and...”

“I will not have that traitor feed my people!” Thorin roared. “Dwarves can feed themselves!”

“Dwarves can't!” Ori squeaked in protest. “Everyone is waiting for help from the Iron Hills or the tall ones, and when I try to do something a little new, I'm mad! Well, I'll be madder and say that if I am to get help, I want it to be from Bilbo!”

“He's a traitor!”

“A traitor who meant to help you, and who saved your life in the battle!”

This Ori had shouted so loud that the entire mountain must have heard it. Thorin had to bite his cheek not to shout back, but after weeks of travelling with the boy and his brothers, he knew anger would only make things worse. When Ori was so furious, he could not hear reason until he had calmed down. And while Thorin was sick at the mere idea of ever seeing again that traitorous hobbit, he had no wish to antagonize Ori over it.

Which was easier said than done, of course.

“Lies! That filthy burglar did not save me,” Thorin spat. “He was not even on the battlefield.”

“And he broke his leg how, do you think? He has a... a ring, a magic ring, and he used it, and when Azog made to kill you and your nephews, Bilbo appeared and distracted him just long enough for Dain and Dwalin to kill him! I was there, my king, and I saw it, right before I lost my eye! He's a traitor maybe, but an honourable one, and if you give him a chance to be of use, he will do it gladly!”

That was an obvious lie, Thorin was certain of it. There was no way a cowardly, miserable creature such as Bilbo Baggins would have come anywhere near a battlefield, let alone put his wretched little life in danger for Thorin of all people. It had to be a lit, even though Ori had never seemed the sort to lie, not on anything of real importance. And why would he lie about such a thing? The same declaration coming from Bofur would have made sense, he had been painfully obvious in his attempts to woo the hobbit, but Ori?

“I am happy for your efforts in the farms, master Ori,” Thorin said coldly. “I will make it clear that your work should be encouraged and helped in any possible way. Any way but the one you dared to ask.”

“I don't need the help of anyone who is laughing at me now,” the young dwarf retorted just as icily. “I'll manage just fine without them. Unless you see reason and call back Bilbo so that he can help, don't bother sending me anyone. They wouldn't obey you anyway. No one wants to smell like this if they can avoid it.”

They glared at each other until Thorin decided that as the eldest he had to be the most mature, and told Ori he could leave. Still, he was not satisfied by this conversation. He had meant to encourage the boy in his efforts, he had hoped that talking with Ori and hearing about the progress in the farms would improve his spirits, and that hope had been crushed.

He did not want to be told anything about Bilbo Baggins.

And when Balin came to see him, Thorin ordered that he should not be told about Ori either.

* * *

 

A dozen days after, a caravan arrived from the Iron Hills carrying food, and material to get farms started again. There were mushrooms spawns, manure to help them grow ( _proper_ manure with a smell that didn't need five bath every day for a week to wash off). There were also crickets, not many but it was a start. The dwarves who had refused to help Ori immediately rejoiced, claiming high and loud that now, the _real_ work was about to begin. Having somehow heard that the young scribe had had an argument with Thorin, they tried to have him removed entirely from the farms, claiming that his experiments were detrimental to their work, and that he had stolen all the best spots.

This was a double mistake. First of all, Thorin still did not want to hear about that foolish boy who thought he knew everything. Secondly, Ori was a member of his company, one who had dared to cross the word with him when no one from the Iron Hills had dared to join him until the fight had been almost entirely won. Just because Thorin couldn't bear the sight of the lad at the moment didn't mean that anyone else was allowed to dismiss him, which he made quite clear.

Ori had his official support, and should anything happen to him or his experiments, there would be an investigation and the culprits _would_ be punished.

He was rewarded for this a few days later when Bombur served him not the plain stew that they had all grown used to, but a new one with mushrooms. These did not taste the way Thorin would have expected, their flavour was much stronger than was usual for this particular specie, but they were good nonetheless.

“Young Ori's experiments worked well then?”

“He said they grew even faster than he'd have thought,” Bombur confirmed. “The taste is too strong to be eaten raw, but they do nicely when they're cooked. And he's been eating them for two days, ain't dead yet, so we figured they're safe. Do we have permission to feed them to everyone?”

“You made me eat them,” Thorin smiled. “Should I die, it is only fair that the whole mountain should die with me.”

The joke fell flat, and Bombur appeared rather horrified by the idea. Thorin was forced to assure him that he did not believe the mushrooms were any danger to anyone.

He also ordered that Ori be brought to him, to properly reward his success, but the stubborn boy refused to come and sent Nori in his place.

“He said you know what he wants and needs,” the dwarf said, not trying to look offended with his youngest brother behaviour.

That Ori had send him rather than Dori said well enough how little he cared for any rewards beside the one he had asked for. It angered Thorin more than he would have liked. Ori's experiments might very well save them when the worst of winter would be there, but the boy was foolishly trying to antagonize him when Thorin wanted nothing more than to cover him in gold and presents.

“Damn that boy,” he grunted, turning toward Balin. “This is your fault, you are the one who encouraged him to join us.”

“What is it that he wants? I would not have thought him the sort to ask the impossible.”

“He demands for Bilbo to be forgiven so that the hobbit might help with our food situation.”

Even Nori tensed at that, and glanced at Balin with an expression of worry on his face. Whether that should have reassured Thorin or angered him, the king was not certain. He was rather glad that they agreed on how ridiculous the idea was, but he wished they wouldn't look as if he might try to get rid of Ori as he had done for the hobbit.

“He might be on to something though,” Nori said with more diplomacy than Thorin had come to expect. “Hobbit's been a little shit with the Arkenstone, sure, but he did some good before that, and after. In the battle...”

“He _wasn't_ part of the battle,” Thorin snarled. “Too much of a coward for that!”

Nori stepped back, but Balin put on his most amicable smile, the one he usually reserved for particularly difficult situations, and patted the king's shoulder gently.

“Actually, he was there,” he chuckled. “He used some sort of hobbit magic to make himself unseen, but we're a few to have heard him here and there, and Dwalin is certain that he heard Bilbo shout right as Azog suddenly stopped attacking you. And the orc was getting slashes on his body for no reasons, which distracted him so much that Dain and Dwalin had a chance to finish him off. Not to mention that Bilbo was wounded when we tried to bring him to you...”

That seemed to confirm what Ori had said before, and Thorin did not like it. It made him wonder if he should have agreed to see the hobbit, as Balin had tried to suggest after the battle... though suggest was a rather polite way of putting it. His old friend had tried to force him to allow the burglar in his presence, saying it would give him peace, should he not survive his wounds, but Thorin had promptly refused it, and shouted that the miserable creature was still banished from his kingdom for his treason.

“You did not say then that he was wounded,” he accused Balin.

“We were all wounded, I thought it went without saying. And you did not exactly give me much time to say anything, did you? Now, we all felt betrayed, but little Ori probably isn't wrong to say that Bilbo might help. Hobbits do know more about food than any reasonable creature ever should, and from what I understood talking with our burglar, there's very little that they can't transform in food somehow. Beside... the Iron Hills farmers are already so offended that a boy playing around with dragon shit managed to ensure they would be fed all winter, I would love to see the look on their face if the other half of their rations came from a hobbit.”

“Not a very kind thought,” Thorin scolded him, but the idea amused him too. These people had chosen to stay in Erebor and they were his subjects as much as his company was, but he had not liked the way they had all been so set against Ori. “Is the hobbit still around anyway?”

The two older dwarves turned to Nori, who smirked and nodded.

“Can't walk very far with his leg, can he? Bard is keeping him in Esgaroth, and Gandalf's with him. They plan on leaving in the spring, if Bilbo's well enough. He should be. His sort are tough little things.”

Thorin sighed. He did not like this, not in the least, but Ori had found a way to ensure they would eat all winter, and they did need all the help they could get...

“I will not see that traitor,” he decided. “But you may tell Ori that he is free to go ask for his help, and should the hobbit agree, I will publicly announce that he is pardoned and must not be harmed. Just keep him out of my sight and make sure I hear nothing about him unless he is a risk or he is at risk.”

The two dwarves agreed, and Nori quickly left to tell the news to his brother.

* * *

 

A week later, Thorin's meal was yet another sort of stew, with not only mushrooms and rabbit, but also what he discovered to be pine bark and lichen. Balin had not been joking when he had claimed that hobbits made food out of everything, and while Bilbo had been harvesting with the help of Nori and Bofur, Kili had shot a few rabbits. That, after weeks of little else but biscuits, mushrooms and dried meat, had made him the hero of the day, though he had not seemed particularly happy of it, and had refused his share of food that evening.

But while meat was an appreciated luxury, Thorin was far more interested by the many uses of bark. Their hobbit (and he had quickly become _theirs_ again, though the king was careful never to call him this way out loud) had apparently claimed that it could be turned into flour that kept longer and made a bitter but tolerable bread, or fried, or even eaten raw in an emergency, while pine needles could be used to make tea. He had then started explaining which trees could be used and which ones could not, and had given them a few basic but strict rules concerning the consumption of lichen too.

“With this, the mushrooms and what we were given, we should easily last until the first crickets are old enough to eat, and then spring will not be so far away anymore,” Balin cheerfully anounced one night. “The food advisor has offered to stay until summer, and foodmaster Ori is trying to write down all the advice he is given to give us the best chances possible.”

“Food advisor?” Thorin chuckled.

“He who must not be named,” Balin explained with a smile. “He would have been foodmaster if not for the fact that Ori is the one really organising everything. He is even on his way to convince others to use the dragon manure, at last.”

“You mean they _haven't_ switched to it already?”

“They don't like the smell, and they like even less that a seventy years old boy pretends to act as if he were in charge.”

Thorin frowned at the news. Ori had been doing a good job, his mushrooms were eaten by everyone already, and he should have been given help to grow them so that he could have turned his attention to new things.

“Make his title official,” the king decided.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that as of today, Ori is officially in charge of Erebor's food supply, and the supreme authority in that domain. His orders are my orders, and refusing his instructions will be considered treason in this time of scarcity.”

“A heavy responsibility for one so young,” Balin stated, but he didn't seem to disapprove. “You do realize that it means the boy will have to report to you regularly, no matter what arguments you've had because of he who shan't be named.”

“I realise this, and I think also we should all stop calling him a boy if we want him to be taken seriously. He is an adult, old enough to fight in war, have responsibilities... even marry, should he wish it. We all need to start treating him accordingly, even in private.”

“I'll pass the word among the company,” Balin promised. “But we might want to make a public announcement about Ori. It'll show people that you are well, too, and that's always good. We can't be hiding you forever, no matter how much rest Oin thinks you need... and it will be a chance to properly introduce Fili too. The boy is getting bored, it will do him good to be taken to another room.”

Thorin nodded slowly. Oin and the elves still hoped that the eldest prince might walk again someday, but he would never again run or fight the way he used to. It was time they all accepted it, and helped him make the best of what he could still do.

“We should put him too in charge of something,” the king suggested. “Maybe say that he is in charge of all the clearing of the tunnels, and the teams at work should report to him, so that he could keep track of the weak points they encounter that cannot be cleared now... he could do that, couldn't he?”

“That's work he can do from a chair or a bed,” Balin agreed, “And we can have someone help him when it is needed to go see things directly... maybe Bofur? He won't be happy to be taken from his harvesting with B... he who cannot be named, but I'm sure he'll understand why it is needed.”

“And Kili will be named my official representative,” Thorin decided. “Fili is not the only one who needs help... but in his spare time he can keep helping Bilbo.”

Balin grinned.

“Don't you mean he who cannot be named?”

“I'm lifting the ban on his name,” Thorin grunted. “But I _still_ do not want to see him.”

“As you order, my king,” Balin politely replied, but his smile was remarkably annoying.

The damn dwarf probably thought that it would not take long until Thorin allowed the burglar to come in his presence.

And the worst thing was, he was probably right.

* * *

 

A few days after publicly being named minister of agriculture and supplies, Ori came to see Thorin for the first time to tell him about the progress been made in the farms. He seemed rather happy with the mushrooms, especially now that most of the production had switched to dragon manure, but the crickets worried him. A higher temperature would have been better for them, which was why the breeding farms were traditionally close to the largest forges, but since they had not been reopened yet, and most likely would not be until summer or spring, the cricket would grow slowly until then.

“Is there nothing when can do?” Thorin asked.

“We experimenting with putting one cage in the kitchen, to see if it helps,” Ori explained, “but Bombur is not too happy with it because it compromises the cleanliness of her workplace, and to really get the best of the heat we have to put the cage somewhere that might get in the way of the cooks. But it's our best option at the moment.”

“Can we not get meat from other creatures?”

“Crickets eat all our scraps, that's what's nice about them. Pigs do the same, but they take a lot longer to mature, and they eat more. Even it if takes more time, crickets are our best option, along with hunting. There's little game on the mountain, but it takes little more than a day for good riders to reach Mirkwood from here, and the northern half of the wood isn't part of Thranduil's kingdom, is it?”

“It's a grey area,” Thorin sighed, slumping against the back of his chair. “As far as I remember, the agreement was that elves made no claim upon it, but we could not use it as our own either. We never minded then, there was a forest on the eastern side of the mountain and we were careful in our use of wood. I'd rather not go anywhere near Mirkwood if I could avoid it.”

Ori nodded, biting his lip and fiddling with the hem of his tunic but not saying anything else. Thorin sighed again.

“You think we should go hunt anyway, don't you?”

“We could send them Bilbo to ask for permission to do it,” Ori blurted. “The elvenking likes him a great deal, and if we insisted that it is only until the end of winter, and that the hunters will be careful to take only what is necessary... It would be only until spring, and then we will have the crickets, we'll plant potatoes and other things... it's just for a few months, it would help us a lot, and Bilbo can probably convince Thranduil.”

“Probably.”

“What do we have to lose?” Ori retorted. “We'd have to send someone with him, because he can't ride alone yet... but I'm sure any of Oin's elves would gladly help. Mithrellas misses her friends and often looks sad here, she'll be delighted to have a chance to go home, and I think she'd come back after, too. She thinks Oin is very funny, and she likes the way dwarven medicine works.”

In all the weeks since the battle, and after all that they had helped, it had never really occurred to Thorin that the elven healers might have names. They were Oin's elves, nothing more. But Ori seemed to know their names and their minds, even though he could not have spoken to them very often. For some reason, it made the king proud and happy. He told himself it was because it proved that he had been right to trust in Ori, but there was more to it than that, he felt it.

“Fine, you may send the hobbit, I will give him a signed letter to prove he speaks for us. But make sure someone here can do his job before he leaves.”

Ori assured him that it would not be a problem, since Bifur had started going with Bilbo in his harvests, and the dwarf had an eye for plants. They moved on then to talk about the probable arrival of caravans from the Blue Mountains in Spring, how many people they should expect and what quantity of food Ori should start planning to produce for them.

It was only after the young dwarf had left that Thorin realized he ought to have apologized for calling him a liar about Bilbo's role in the battle.

* * *

 

“We have not had any lichen to eat since Bilbo left,” the king noted when Ori came for his next report. “Is there a reason?”

“These were his instructions, because we still have trouble distinguishing which are edible and which aren't. They can sometimes be poisonous, so we thought it better to stop eating them entirely until he is back to gather them himself. They are not a major help anyway, we use them mostly for the taste, and because it's funny to see the look on people's face when you tell them what they've been eating.”

Thorin should not have laughed, because he had been among their victims, but he did anyway.

“Do you and your halfling accomplice often pull such pranks on us then, master Ori?”

“Only on people who deserve them,” the young dwarf promised, nervously fiddling with his eye-patch. “And before you ask, yes, you had deserved it. I don't like being shouted at.”

“And in my defence, you took me by surprise even though you should have known by now that I do not react well to the unexpected,” Thorin retorted with a smile. “But I should not have called you a liar so easily, and for this I am sorry. I should have known better.”

Ori nodded, and then switched the subject to his experiment with keeping crickets in the kitchen. This attempt had ended badly, since someone, whose identity was yet unknown, had stolen the insects. Since there had also been some losses in the breeding farm, Ori suspected either a thief trying to improve their comfort by trading meat, or rats. In either cases, he wanted Thorin's permission to have permanent guards in the farm, to put off thieves and make it clear that it had been noticed.

“You need not ask for my permission,” the king told him. “Do anything needed to protect our supplies.”

“I am not sure who I can trust though,” Ori confessed. “The dwarves working down there don't like me too much, I know that, and I haven't had time to meet other people. If I ask them, they will resent me, but if you were to appoint guards, or at least if you asked Dwalin to do it... An order coming directly from you will be accepted more easily, my king.”

Thorin huffed in annoyance. The entire point of giving Ori an official title had been so that people would be forced to obey him no matter how young he was or how odd his idea were thought. This was a problem he would have to deal with if it didn't stop. The Iron Hills dwarves usually respected the rest of the company, even Kili who was barely older than Ori, or Bifur who could be odder, or even Dwalin who had the social skills of a wounded boar, they should have accepted Ori too. Just in case, Thorin decided he would ask Balin to give the lad some lessons on how to handle a position of power, and to see if Dori couldn't help his brother.

“I will ask Dwalin to pick a few people to help,” Thorin promised. “I'll make sure he comes to see you, so he knows what you need.”

“Thank you, my king. I will keep you updated on this of course.”

“Let us hope it is rats. I do not want to have to start putting people in prison so early. It would be terribly inconvenient, since we do _not_ have a prison at the moment.”

* * *

 

Bilbo had not returned yet when the first snow fell, and it soon became obvious that he would not come back until the weather took a turn for the better. Mithrellas managed to come back to Erebor though, since elves did not seem to mind the cold, and neither did the elks they rode. She carried a message from Thranduil, who granted temporary permission to the dwarves to hunt in the unclaimed parts of Mirkwood, and even offered to renegotiate the old treaties concerning the northern half of the forest, so that dwarves might one day use and protect it.

Thorin privately decided, as he read that letter, that Bilbo deserved some public gesture of acceptance for what he had accomplished, and that if the hobbit kept working so hard for them, he might find it in himself to forgive him. But that would wait until the snow was gone, and there were more important business to mind at the moment, such as organising the hunts.

The king had hoped that Kili, Bifur and Nori could lead, since they were all three skilled in hunting (illegally in Nori's case, but that mattered little now). But Bifur refused, because harvesting bark was taking a lot of his time, and Kili declined too, suggesting that someone from the Iron Hill be put in charge, to prove that the new king really was giving all of his subjects a chance to prove themselves and be rewarded for their competence.

“That sounds suspiciously like something your brother would say,” Thorin commented at the end of the explanation.

“That's because he gave me these arguments when I told him I was afraid you might make me go hunt,” Kili retorted. “I would rather help in the mountain... I can keep exploring! I am doing a good job with that, aren't I? And I do well enough when we gather bark, too. I can be useful in other ways than hunting!”

“But you are a skilled hunter, and you have always enjoyed it.”

“Not anymore,” Kili whispered. “I don't even want to touch my bow if I can avoid it. I know I've killed a few rabbits here and there, but it... I didn't like it, uncle. It... it makes me sick, and I feel like... it's ridiculous, but I feel like I'm back in the battle and...”

“The warrior's illness?”

The young prince nodded and looked away, ashamed. Thorin gestured for him to come near him, and when his nephew was close enough he pulled him in a tight hug. The warrior's illness was not something Kili should have been ashamed of, no more than if he had caught the flu, and Thorin only wished he had known earlier.

“Have you told Oin? Or Dwalin? He's suffered from it badly after Azanulbizar, and it still comes back to him sometimes, he can probably help you find ways to cope with it.”

“They're busy with important things, I don't want to...”

“Your health is important,” Thorin protested. “And Oin is a healer. I cannot imagine what sort of business could be more important to him than the healing of people. Go see him. And since you will not be hunting, can I ask you to find someone who might do it? I'm sure you're friend with half the mountain already, you must know the right person for this.”

“I do indeed!” Kili exclaimed, smiling widely as he tore himself from his uncle. “I think you could ask Dremon and Bemon, they are siblings and they are better archers that I could ever dream to be. They are great hunters, everyone says so! They're not so young, almost Dwalin's age, but...”

“May the maker have mercy on you if Dwalin ever hears you say he is old,” Thorin chuckled. “Fine, I will summon them, and see if they are willing to help. And you... you are going to see Oin as soon as you leave this room, am I clear? I will ask Balin to make sure that you did.”

Kili rolled his eyes at this, but he promised all the same, and Thorin thought his nephew suddenly looked younger. Just as Dwalin had, many years ago, the first time someone had told him about the warrior's illness, and he'd understood there had been nothing _broken_ about him.

* * *

 

“I have good news and bad news and... news of uncertain quality,” Ori announced during his next report. “Which would you like first, my king?”

“Let's go with the good news. And you can call me Thorin when it is only the two of us, or even when there are only members of the company around. We have seen each other naked and bathed in the same rivers, I will not be angry if you use my name.”

Ori frowned and pinched his lips, while a slight blush came to his face.

“I do not think it would be a good idea,” he replied. “You are my king, and my elder, and my employer, and I owe you respect.”

“I would have hoped I was your friend too, and that this might have been above any consideration of rank or age.”

There was now an obvious pinkness to Ori's cheek, and Thorin decided it rather suited the boy. The young dwarf had never been very expressive, and often bore the same air of confusion when he was around people he didn't fully feel at ease with. Any deviation from this, Thorin took as a proof that Ori was trusting him more, or at least not seeing him as a complete stranger. And why that should matter so much, the king was not sure, but he still enjoyed it.

“Fine, we'll talk again about this later,” Thorin decided, and Ori relaxed a little. “Tell me your news.”

“Well, the good news is we don't have rats in the farms, and that's a relief. We could have tried to get dogs from the Iron Hills, but it would have been a bother. But the bad news is, instead we have a thief... but they denounced themselves!”

“And I suppose this is where you uncertain news fits in?”

Ori nodded, and smile.

“The thief, Arend, stole the crickets for their boyfriend Horun who is bearing. They were worried he might not be getting enough meat with the normal portions, but they did not dare to ask for more. They thought Horun might be judged badly for going into battle while bearing, even if he swears he had no idea at the time. I have asked Bombur to make sure he gets a bit more now, but Arend's fate still needs to be determined.”

Thorin sighed.

“We will have to improvise a prison then. I had hoped we might have a little more time before we had to worry about such things.”

“If I may...” Ori started hesitantly.

Thorin waited for more, but it did not come, and the younger dwarf looked embarrassed.

“You are my minister, master Ori,” the king reminded him gently. “Your job is to give me your opinion on matters I do not know as well as you do, so that I might rule better. I would not have given you such a title if I did not value what you have to say.”

“I think that imprisoning him will not do any good,” Ori explained. “I've seen what it did with Nori, first of all. Beside, we need everyone to work hard right now, and Arend would be useless if he were locked up. So I'd like him to be affected to the farms. It would help me a great deal to have someone who'd handle the manure for me, and it would make the farmers more willing to use it if _they_ don't have to touch it. And if the fear of having to do that again doesn't convince Arend to never do steal again, nothing ever will because I swear that dragon's waste is the foulest thing ever.”

The young dwarf shivered and scrunched his nose in distaste at the mere idea of it. It could not have been easy for him, working so hard with something so disgusting, and being mocked for it too... Thorin would have to find a proper reward for him, when things would be better. The title of minister had been a way to silence all opposition, but Ori deserved to be given something nice for all that he had done.

“I will follow your advice then. And I will let it be known that until new orders, this will be the standard punishment for all small crimes.”

Ori grinned then, looking more like the boy of seventy he was than he had in weeks. It suited him, far more than the serious mask he so often put on, or so Thorin privately thought.

* * *

 

They were lucky for the mid-winter celebrations. The weather was cool enough that the hunters had no problem going to Mirkwood, from which they brought back a few does, some boars, and a beautiful deer, enough for a couple small feasts if they were careful. Then, at Balin's instigation, they invited the Men of Dale for the mid-winter night itself, in an effort to show good will. Thorin had been against it at first, but Balin, his nephews, Ori and even quiet Bombur herself came to let him know how important this would be.

Though to be fair, Bombur cared little about diplomacy, and more about the food that the Men would bring and which she could use to make a proper feast. The Men, apparently, had a better supply of fruits and vegetables than the dwarves, and Bombur had been promised that she could have jam, with which she hoped to make cakes. Real cakes, with real flour, not a pinch of bark flour in it, nothing but good wheat, as she told Thorin. And that, in the end, convinced him more than all the rest. It had been too long since he'd eaten anything as nice as cake.

When king Bard and the few of his subjects who'd decided to spend the winter in Dale arrived, things were tense. The two kings could barely bear to look at each other, remembering all too well, for one the death brought by Smaug upon innocent bystanders, for the other how quick the Men had been ready to try to claim the riches of Erebor. Thorin felt more in the mood to have an argument than to celebrate.

But then, Fili was brought into the room by Bofur and Kili, who pushed him around in a large, heavy chair with a cart's wheels attached to it, the best they had managed to make for the time being. Bard's children immediately ran to him and asked about his wounds. News of the eldest prince's state had not yet reached the Men's town it seemed, or if it had, they had not been informed of it. But now that they knew, the three of them begged their father and Thorin to be allowed to come and visit him sometimes.

“When it doesn't snow it's not far at all!” Tilda told them, while her siblings nodded in agreement. “And next time we can bring Acorn and Bacon and we'll all play together!”

“They have adopted pug puppies and named them,” Bard explained, glaring at Bain who must have suggested the name, considering the way he was snickering. “They don't do much beside beg for treats and petting, but we have found owners for most of them. It seems Acorn and Bacon will remain in the family, though.”

Thorin did _not_ say that having pets that did nothing useful in such times of scarcity was a waste, but he still thought it. Then again, the Men, even those who had settled in Dale, seemed to be getting more generous presents from the elves than the dwarves had.

“They're supposed to help against the rats,” Bard claimed as if he'd guess the dwarf's thoughts. “That's what we tell ourselves at least. Some people who have come to Dale are those who had nothing left in Laketown. They need something to love, and the pugs are terribly good at that. I know a few for whom having the puppies means the difference between surviving and living, and even if it might feel like a waste to you, it is important to them.”

“I had never thought of it that way,” Thorin admitted. “I have never had pets myself, though my younger brother had some hunting dogs, and my sister has a few pigs in the Blue Mountains. I always thought that animals had to do their part of the work, as we all do... It had never occurred to me that mere companionship could be that work, but I will try to think about it.”

“I advise that you do,” Bard replied, watching his children who were now chatting merrily with Thorin's nephews. “I'd be very surprised if you do not end up with a pug in the mountain before winter is over.”

Thorin laughed loudly at that, but the laughter died in his throat when he realized how utterly serious Bard looked. He would have to see with Ori if they could afford to feed a dog.

At least, talking of this had relaxed the mood. For the rest of the evening, Bard and Thorin managed to talk to each other politely, and no one mentioned any event anterior to the battle of the five armies. And when a few dwarves started playing music, everyone who could went dancing together, no matter their size. Kili and Ori tried to stay with Fili at first, to keep him company, but the blond prince wouldn't have any of it. He sent his brother to dance with Tilda who was delighted to have a dwarven partner, and Ori eventually agreed to dance with a large, threatening dwarf with a sharp smile. It made Thorin wish he could dance too, but even when he'd had both his legs, he had never been particularly good at it, not the way Dis was, or even less how Frerin had been. Still, he might have tried anyway, simply because he did not like the way Ori and that dwarf were laughing together. He felt rather foolish when Fili asked him whether Ori's partner was the mountain's pregnant dwarf. It had to Horun indeed, he was even starting to show... and it would explain why Ori was comfortable with him. What it did not explain was why Thorin would be feeling such possessiveness toward his youngest minister, but he decided it would be a problem for later, and he went back to enjoying the celebration.

The cake, in particular, was every bit as delicious as Bombur had promised.

* * *

 

Bacon the dog arrived in the mountain four days later, and she came to stay. Bard's children had brought both of the puppies with them in their first visit, but they had taken only Bacon's blanket, and her favourite chewing stick. Thorin had not even had time to ask Ori if they would be able to feed the dog, but when he came to get an explanation, his oldest nephew promised that they had taken care of everything.

“We're not fools, uncle,” Fili laughed, the dog sleeping on his lap, “and only fools would risk crossing Ori. He takes his duties very seriously, and he get pretty scary if he thinks anyone is wasting. He's really afraid you'll be disappointed if he doesn't do the job well enough. So we asked him, and Bacon's going to be fed with Kili's share of meat.”

“I'm not sure I like that.”

“Well, he didn't eat it anyway,” the prince explained. “Not these last three weeks. He tried at the feast, but it made him sick and he... sort of panicked. Said meat made him think of hunting, and hunting reminded him of the battle.”

Thorin had noticed that Kili had disappeared at one point that night, but he had assumed that his nephew had only needed some fresh air, or that he had found someone to flirt with maybe. Such things often happened on the mid-winter night. But if Kili was having such strong reactions to such small things, then it was worrying. Thorin would have to make sure that his nephew was getting help from Oin and Dwalin... and if truly he had stopped eating meat, then a chat with Bifur might help too, to know what else he could eat to get the energy he needed... and maybe Bombur could join in that chat, because she would know about such things, wouldn't she?

“The dog is for Kili anyway,” Fili claimed, breaking his uncle's train of thought. “The children brought her for me they said, to keep me company, but she likes to play with Kili better, and he looks... less bad when he's petting her. We might even train her. Bain said that Acorn had learned on his own to comfort Tilda whenever she had nightmares, maybe there's a way to teach Bacon how to notice when Kili starts being unwell?”

“Some sort of seeing dog for emotions then?”

Fili grinned and nodded. A month before, Thorin would have caste it away as an odd idea, but his conversation with Bard made him pause and think. Kili did need help, and while they were all willing to give it to him, there was so much to do in the mountain than it was easier said than done. If that dog could bring any comfort, then she was more than welcome to stay.

“Maybe I should try to see if we can find another one for you,” the kind said, and Fili turned serious instantly. “Maybe a bigger one, that could help you, pick things up for you... or we will find yourself a valet of some sort once we have enough people.”

“I have Kili and Bofur,” the prince protested. “Sometimes Ori and Nori come visit me, and they help with anything I need. There are more urgent problems than me.”

That, if nothing else, was proof that Fili did need someone, if only for company. He should never have seen himself as a problem, let alone one that was of little importance. Thorin regretted not having visited his nephew earlier. He had been busy, and his missing leg made it difficult to walk, even with the crutches he still needed to get used to, but that had been no excuse to let Fili remain alone that way.

“How comfortable is that wheel chair Bofur and Bifur made for you? The one you had at the celebration? Could you spend the day in it?”

“With a few more cushions, I probably could, why?”

“I'll see if you can be brought to the new throne room during the days. It will be easier for us to discuss the progress made in cleaning the tunnels, and I'll appreciate the company.”

“Company? Uncle, Kili says the whole mountain comes to see you ever day!”

“And it would be nice to have some with me as they come and tell me everything that is going wrong. Yes, yes, things are going well for now, but the worst of winter is yet to come, and it will bring all sorts of problems. The hunters are out almost permanently because the next snowfall might trap us inside the mountain and with nothing but our own resources to survive until snowmelt. I will need moral support while dealing with this, trust me.”

Fili grinned, and scratched Bacon's ears.

“Fine then. For the sake of moral support, I will come... as long as Bofur as the energy to push the chair.”

“If he doesn't, we'll find someone else to do it,” Thorin promised. “You are my heir, and you belong at my side.”

* * *

 

When snow started falling again, it was much heavier than the first time and it was obvious that Thorin's prediction would be realized: there would be few contacts with the rest of the world until spring. The hunters were out when the weather changed, and for three days, there was no news of them. They were all started to fear the worst, when on the fourth day Nori arrived, alone. He explained that they had gotten lost on their way back, but had luckily arrived in Dale, where the others were still staying until things were better.

That meant they would have to work for the rest of winter without ten of their strongest dwarves, among whom was Bifur, who had gone with two others to gather a little more pine bark. Bombur and Bofur were rather worried for their cousin, but the rest of the company convinced them that he would not be alone, that he was capable of handling himself, and that Bard would probably treat him very decently, as well as the others. Still, everyone wished that the hunters could have come home, but Nori assured them it was not an option.

“I only managed because I've gotten trapped outside in worse weather a few times, and because I'm better at finding my way aboveground than under the rock. They'll be better in Dale. Do you know they have beer there? Damn humans, they always get the fun stuff.”

It took some organisation to adapt to living only within the mountain. The most urgent problem was to find out all the fissures, crevices and openings that let the cold come in. Erebor was, luckily, a naturally warm place (it was probably an old volcano, Thorin had been told in his youth, though it had been dormant since the second age at least), but if the wind was allowed to find a way in, they could still freeze to death. Instead of trying to clear more tunnels, the workers started looking for holes to repair near the surface. The ventilation system had suffered some serious damage in places, and since the tubes were sometimes too small for grown dwarves to get into, not everything could be repaired at present time.

Food rations were also more strictly applied. Until then, Bombur and her team and sometimes granted seconds and made little treats to brighten up the meals, but this stopped. Everyone was given the same quantity of stew or gruel, depending on the day, unless Oin stated they need more than that for medical reasons, as was the case for Horun.

Even like this, Ori worried that they might not have enough. The mushrooms and the crickets were given all the attention possible, and since the farms were now doing well enough without his constant supervision, Ori had gone on a quest to find Erebor's old honey reserves. Balin had told him that it used to be stored somewhere in the mountain, to have emergency food in case of disaster or famine, but he did not know where the storage room had been. Ori had made it his mission to look for it in his free time, dragging Nori and Kili with him when they had nothing better to do, just like they had right after the battle. The only differences were they had less occasions for it, and that Bacon would usually follow them. The pug had quickly become a great favourite with everyone, and she was spoiled rotten, but she was a good natured dog and she adored Kili as much as he loved her. Even with the forced confinement, the prince's mood had improved since he'd gotten Bacon, and Thorin found himself wondering how he would thank Bard's children for this. Bain would probably enjoy a sword, as would Tilda, but he was a good deal less sure about Sigrid. He would have to ask Dis when she would be there.

* * *

 

“We found coal,” Ori announced during his next report. “We won't have to be as careful about making fires now, and we might start heating the crickets. The first generation will be ready to eat in a week or so, but we could have the next ones ready a little faster this way.”

“Make sure the farms have proper ventilation then. I do not want anyone dying of gas poisoning just for the hope of a few more crickets. Any news about the honey?”

“Not yet,” Ori sighed. “Well, that's not true... we found a place that could be right, but the entrance was to small for Kili or Nori, and I... I couldn't reach it because there's a crevice on the way, and I don't want to risk jumping over it when I can judge distances.”

“Your eye is truly lost then?”

Ori shook his head quickly, a slight blush to his face as he fidgeted with his patch.

“It's... not back to normal, and it'll never be, but I can see again a little... but it's all blurry and too bright on this side, I always get headaches...”

“Did you tell Oin?”

The young dwarf nodded, and frowned.

“He said it would get better if I used it, so that I could get used to how it is now... but I can't really afford headaches right now, can I? And beside...”

“Yes?”

“It looks _very_ ugly,” Ori mumbled, wringing his fingers. “Everyone says so. It's better to keep it covered, and I manage pretty well like that, anyway.”

“Who told you it was ugly?”

The harshness of Thorin's voice startled the young dwarf. Not entirely without reason. The king was furious, not at Ori, but at whoever had dared to make remarks on his appearance when the scribe had been injured defending Erebor.

“Everyone,” Ori mumbled. “No one. It just is, you know? Infections are never easy, and those due to orc blood even less.”

“Show me,” Thorin ordered, and the boy startled again.

“I'd rather not, my king.”

“I have been at Azanulbizar, I have survived the wandering years before and after it,” the king reminded Ori. “I am fairly sure I have seen worse things than your eye, and I will tell you if it is indeed something you should hide. So come closer, and show me.”

“I don't think...”

“I am still your king, master Ori. I do not pretend to give your orders most of the time, but when I do, I want them to be obeyed. Come here and show me.”

Taking the few steps that separated him from Thorin's chair, Ori removed his patch with trembling hands. He tried to turn away, but the king grabbed his chin and forced him to look his way. Ori's eye was not pretty to look at, that was a fact. The white of it had turned red, nearly purple in places, and the iris had gone from a golden brown to a milky white, some of which partly covered the pupil. It wasn't pretty, but neither was it so horrifying that it should be constantly covered, and Thorin said so.

“Who told you to hide it?”

“No one... not really, just... I heard some of the farmers talk sometimes, when I tried to remove the patch... they were talking between themselves and saying it made it difficult to talk to me, and that I should have mercy on people and not go around like that... and it gives me headaches anyway, so I thought it was easier that way, really.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin grumbled. He realized then that he was still holding Ori's chin, and let go of it. “You need both your eyes, and anyone who isn't happy with it isn't worth your time. Why don't you ask Fili, if you do not believe me?”

Ori startled once more, as if he had entirely forgotten that the prince was with them. Fili, who had been watching them with intense interest, grinned at his friend.

“I think it doesn't look so bad,” he agreed. “Beside, if uncle thinks it suits you, isn't it enough to stop hiding it?”

Thorin almost protested that he had never said such a thing, but the way Ori blushed distracted him. The young dwarf's entire face had gone a bright red in a matter of seconds, and he was glaring at Fili as if the prince had greatly insulted him.

“I don't know what you mean,” Ori grumbled. “But fine, I'll think about it. And now I'll... go back to work, unless there's anything else you want from me, my king?”

Thorin did, indeed, want more from him, and for starting he wanted an explanation of that strange exchange between his nephew and his youngest minister. However that would have been an abuse of power, and so he let Ori go. He did not ask Fili, either. The way that boy was smirking, he would not have gotten a straight answer from him.

* * *

 

Ori did sometimes abandon his eye-patch after that day. At first it was only for a few minutes at a time, because of the headaches he had mentioned, and probably because of self-consciousness. But Balin told Thorin that there was clear progress nonetheless, and after a week or so, Ori would often forgo the patch for an hour or more. After two weeks, he dared to jump above the crevice that he had mentioned before, and though he reported to Thorin that the room they had found did not contain any honey, the king still felt victorious.

* * *

 

When the first crickets were fit for consumption, there was a small party of sorts. They could not make a feast, Bombur and Ori were quite clear on that, but people still managed to celebrate with music and dances around their frugal portions of food. Any change was welcome at that point, and they were all getting tired of bark bread, cram, mushroom stew and game paté. At one point during the night, Horun and Arend announced that they had gotten properly engaged, and would marry that spring, and the merriness doubled. Everyone congratulated them, and the general opinion was that Arend was a very lucky dwarf, though people jokingly doubted Horun's tastes for marrying 'the other dragon shit dwarf'.

There was more dancing then, and Thorin couldn't help but notice that Kili invited Nori a couple times. It might just have been because they had become closer friends during their explorations together, or it might be more than that. He would have to ask Ori, and see if he knew anything.

Concerning Ori, he did not dance with anyone, even though he received a few offers. Thorin guessed this was because he was not wearing his patch that night. He still appeared to have fun though, laughing often with Fili as they either played with Bacon or whispered about the dancers. It pleased the king to see them so joyful, though he wondered if he should start asking questions about them too. It wouldn't be a bad match for Fili, far from it, and Thorin had a great deal of respect and affection for Ori, but somehow the idea didn't please him.

* * *

 

Balin laughed at his face when, a few days later, Thorin asked him if there was any romantic involvement between Ori and his nephew. The king felt rather vexed by it. Balin was still laughing by the time Bofur brought Fili to the throne room, and the old dwarf immediately repeated Thorin's question to them. They laughed too, Fili crying from it and Bofur almost choking.

“Uncle, I promise you that Ori is as kin to me, and nothing else,” the prince promised. “I can see why another might love him, but he is not what I want. For a start, I prefer bearers. So don't worry, I'm not going to court him.”

“It would not worry me,” Thorin protested. “He is a perfectly respectable young dwarf, smart and handsome, kind and hard-working, I would be honoured to welcome him in the family.”

And that, for some reason, had them laughing again, though they would not say why.

“You'll know soon enough,” Balin promised. “At least I hope you will. I bet two onion pies and one apple cake that it would be settled by the end of winter.”

That only increased Thorin's confusion. It wasn't new that Balin liked a friendly bet here and there, never risking more than nice food or a promise for help, but he didn't bet on just anything. His hobby was to make guess on people's sentimental lives, be it romance or friendship, people getting closer or breaking apart.

“Ori and Kili then?” the king asked, and Fili sniggered.

“Not a chance. Kee has had a crush on Nori since that fight with the trolls, but we're not too sure if Nori feels the same. We're not even sure he knows about it. Some people can be oblivious to the most _obvious_ things, you know?”

Something in Fili's tone of voice gave Thorin the impression that he was not just talking about Nori right then. A way of telling him that he had missed something important then, and judging by the way they were all smirking, they would not tell him if he asked.

“We will see about this later,” the king grumbled, annoyed with the knowledge he would spend the rest of the day thinking about it. “We have more important things to mind. How are the cleaning teams doing?”

Fili chuckled at the change of subject, but did not protest. Things were going well for the most, though there had been a small incident a few days earlier, and some of the workers had been wounded. It was nothing serious, part of a tunnel had caved in, but it had resulted in nothing worse than a broken finger and some large bruises. However the entire area had been weakened as a result, and they would have to avoid working on it for the time being. Bofur made a few suggestions about what could still be done, some of which were his own but the majority were comments the workers themselves had made. Fili gave orders, all of which his uncle agreed with, and the problem was settled. People started coming in then, some to see the prince, most to see the king, and for a while Thorin forgot about their first conversation.

He remembered it at lunch time, when Kili and Ori came to drag Fili away from the throne room, saying they wanted to chat without bothering the king. Thorin found himself alone then, and having nothing better to do, he tried to make sense of what had happened in the morning.

He was tempted at first to simply brush it off at Balin, Bofur and Fili being amused by the idea that anyone could imagine a romance between Ori and the prince, but he felt there was more than that to it. It seemed that even if Fili was not concerned, something was still going on with Ori, and possibly with Thorin himself. The fact that his nephew had thought he might be worried about Ori being courted proved it, and it was true. The idea of Ori being involved with anyone made him either angry or hurt, though he had avoided thinking about it so far. It might have been that he feared Ori wouldn't do his work as well if he started courting someone? But no, he was a serious dwarf, and he would not have let his feelings get in the way of his duties, Thorin was convinced of it. It might have been sheer worry over the youngest member of his company, but that did not feel right either. Another option was simple jealousy.

This made Thorin more uncomfortable than he would have cared to admit, and he felt it was likely to be the real explanation. But why would he be jealous? He certainly didn't love the boy.

Or maybe he did, he realised. As he had told Fili earlier, Ori was more than decent husband material. He was a good boy, and a clever one too. The was something oddly sweet in the way he could be so uncomfortable around people sometimes, or maybe it was just that Thorin enjoyed the fact that Ori wasn't this way around him anymore. He was brave too, both in battle and out of it. No one else in the company had dared to ignore the king's order and tell him what Bilbo had done for him in the battle, even if it meant risking his anger. And then there were other things, his smile when he tried not to laugh, the way he fidgeted when he was nervous, the almost graceful way he sauntered when he was in a particularly good mood, how he tried and failed not to roll his eyes when he heard something he did not like...

For these reasons, and others that he could not quite name, Thorin cared for the young dwarf, more than he had realised. He probably even loved him.

That, of course, might prove to be a problem, because he did not have much to show if he wanted to seduce the younger dwarf... but maybe that would not be needed. Hadn't Balin said that he hoped the whole thing could be settled before the end of winter? Hadn't Fili hinted at his obliviousness? Maybe he would have a chance, if only he took the risk. And after all that he had gone through, it was certainly a risk that he could take.

Thorin did not say anything when Ori came to bring back Fili, but he looked at him in a new light. He had never looked more handsome than in that moment, and everything that might have seemed a flaw before, from his wounded eye to his short size or his messy hair, seemed to contribute even more to that handsomeness.

* * *

 

For all that he was determined to talk to Ori about his new found feelings, Thorin never seemed to find the right time to do it. The problem, of course, was that they could never be alone together. Thorin spent most of his days in the throne room, and even when he had no visitors, Fili was usually there with him. When for some reason the king had to go anywhere else, Dwalin was at his side. Officially it was for Thorin's protection, but the truth was he still got tired easily when walking with his crutches, and sometimes needed help. Bofur had started working on a rough prosthesis for him, to make walking easier, but he was always called on other things and never had time for it. Until then, Thorin was never alone save in his own bedroom at night, and he did not want to ask Ori to meet him there. If nothing else, Dori and Nori would have killed him if they had heard about it.

In the end, it was Fili who gave him a chance to talk to Ori. One afternoon, his nephew asked him if he could negotiate something on his behalf, because he needed a favour but was worried his friend might judge it nothing more than a passing fancy.

“I'm sharing my room with a raven these days,” he explained. “One of the talking ones. He got in through my window during the last snowfall, and we started chatting sometimes. He was quite fascinated with dwarves, and it amused him to do small things for me... bringing me things that had fallen on the floor, warning me if I was doing something that could damage my legs... just telling me bird stories sometimes, when I was feeling a little blue. He says I'm his pet, since he takes care of me. And in exchange I give him bits of my meals, but...”

“But?”

“Bacon gets her own portion of food, because she helps Kili feel better. I know we have to be very careful because we don't know how long winter will be, but... I would like to know if Raekh might get a share of food too. I've tried jokingly asking Ori about it, and he seems to think that since Raekh is a wild bird, he knows how to manage on his own, but...”

“I will ask Ori,” Thorin promised. “And you should try to see if your bird friend would be willing to help you when you are here too. Neither of us can catch anything on the floor after all, and it might be helpful to have someone who might carry messages.”

“I'll see with him!” Fili replied with a large grin. “I think he'd like that! He thinks were very odd creatures, and he wants to study us, I believe. I'll ask him tonight, and I'll tell Bofur to tell Ori he should come and see you, if that's fine?”

Thorin readily agreed, glad to get a chance to talk to Ori in private.

The only problem left was to decide on what he would tell him.

* * *

 

Ori was nervous when he came to the throne room that evening. No one had told him why he had to be there, only that it was important and urgent. He quickly relaxed when Thorin told him about Fili's request, and immediately agreed to it.

“I'd thought Fili was joking whenever he talked about feeding Raekh,” he explained, “and I didn't want to sound like I was taking him seriously. But if the bird helps, then he deserves a reward. We feed Bacon even if she does'n't do much beside snoring, demanding to be pet and drooling on everything.”

“Do not try to sound so tough, master Ori,” the king teased him. “I know for a fact that you are never last in line to pet and cuddle her.”

The young dwarf grinned guiltily.

“Well, she is a sweetie! My mother has a cat at home, because of the mice, but he is a nasty old thing who hissed at me and tried to scratch me if I came to near. I'd never have thought it could be _fun_ to own an animal.”

Thorin agreed with that sentiment, after which they both fell silent.

“Was there anything else you wanted, my king?” Ori asked after a moment.

“Indeed there is. There is a chair right there, could you take it and come sit near me? There is something I would like to discuss with you, if you have time.”

“I always have time for you, my king!” Ori claimed.

He did as Thorin had asked him, then waited for him to talk again. The king kept silent however, still unsure how to start.

“Tell me, Ori, would you say that we are friends?” he eventually asked, cringing at the clumsiness of it.

“You are my king. If you wish to call me your friend, I will be greatly honoured by it, and very happy too. I... I like you a great deal, and not _just_ because you are a good king.”

That was encouraging, Thorin decided, and he felt bold enough to take Ori's hand.

“And what if I said I would like to be something other than your friend, how would you like it?”

Ori blushed, and looked away.

“I am not sure I see what you mean, my king.”

“On the contrary, I think that you do. I like you a great deal, and I have realised recently that what I feel for you is not friendship alone. If you allow it, I would like to court you, and try to make you care for me the way I care for you.”

The young dwarf dared to look at Thorin then, half confused and half hopeful.

“Do you really mean that? It's not some sort of a joke, is it? It's not like you to joke about that, I think, but...”

“I would never be so cruel as to toy with someone's emotions,” Thorin promised. “This is a most sincere offer. And should you refuse it, I promise I will not hold it against you, and I hope that we will remain friends at least. But I love you, master Ori, and I offer myself to you, if you will have me.”

Ori grinned widely, and took Thorin's hand in both of his.

“My king, nothing could ever make me happier.”

Strictly speaking, it was far too early in the courtship for such things, but Thorin could not resist an impulse to lean toward the other dwarf and kiss him. Ori, far from protesting, threw his arms around the king's neck, and kissed him back.

* * *

 

Neither of their family were particularly surprised about the news. Thorin had know that Fili was expecting it, and assumed that it meant Kili must have suspected too, but he had thought that Ori's brothers were oblivious to the situation.

Instead, it turned out that Nori had been the one in charge of the bets about them, whereas Dori admitted that just a few more days and he would have stepped in to help them. Thorin wasn't sure if he was happy that they were accepting, or wounded that they'd had so little faith in his capacities to figure this out. Then Dori reminded him that he would still have to convince their mother that he was worthy of her baby (Ori cringed at the word) and that it wouldn't be so easy, considering their age difference and the fact that he would be throwing poor, shy Ori in a life where he would be constantly the centre of attention.

“I can manage,” Ori protested. “I have managed so far, haven't I?”

“You've honestly done far better than I would have imagined,” his eldest brother admitted, “and I think you might still surprise us all. But last time mother saw you, you couldn't even go to the tavern with your friends because there were too many people. She will need some convincing to admit you might survive being the king's consort, don't you think?”

“Yes, well, I'll show her. I'll show _everyone_!” he added, turning toward Thorin with a determined look that should _not_ have been so attractive.

“I don't doubt it for a second,” the king replied with a smile. “I have never seen you fail to do something you had decided to accomplish, and I will do all I can so to help you along the way.”

Ori smiled back and took his hand, while Nori pretended to be gagging, and claimed that no couple should ever have been allowed to be so sweet. Thorin rather agreed, but he was in no mood to complain.

* * *

 

No one outside the company was told about the courtship between Ori and Thorin, and after a few days, life went back to normal, with only a few changes.

For one thing, Ori's reports on their supplies became a daily occurrence, and usually happened when Bofur came to take Fili back to his room. It gave them a chance to be alone together, though Ori never lasted very long before starting to chat about all the things they would need to do once the snow would melt, which he expected to happen within a week or two. There were all sorts of vegetables they should plant, peas and potatoes... onions too, and then in a few months, around the time when the first caravan from Ered Luin was expected to arrive, they might plant spring wheat.

“I know where you gain your knowledge of mushrooms,” Thorin noted one evening, “but I'm surprised you know so much about other plants. Where did you learn this?”

“I have to thank Bilbo for it,” Ori admitted. “I know about underground farms, but he told me everything I know about aboveground gardening... and we didn't have a lot of time to talk about it. I hope he'll be back soon, I'll need his help to... oh! Sorry, I probably shouldn't talk about him in front of you, right?”

Thorin chuckled at Ori's horrified expression, and shook his head.

“Mr Baggins has made a mistake or two, but so did I. He did not know what it meant when he gave the Arkenstone to Bard, because I did not trust him enough to tell him. We are both at fault, and I think I might learn to call him my friend once more, with time. I shall certainly be glad to see him back too, if it can help you in your work, and I might even find it in myself to welcome him back to Erebor.”

“He'll be happy if you do it. He really regrets everything, you know.”

“We all carry regrets,” Thorin said, thinking of Fili who would never walk again, of Kili who couldn't bear to look at a bow, of Ori's eye too. “All we can do is learn to live with them, and try not to repeat the same mistakes twice. For example, I will never again try to kill a dragon with melted gold.”

The way Ori chortled was anything but elegant, and yet Thorin wanted nothing more than to hear it again and again, to see Ori so happy, to talk with him about _their_ kingdom and all the ways they would make it prosper together.

If this wasn't true happiness, then nothing was.

 


End file.
